I remained so many years alone, dominated by a triumphal kind without knowing colonization. In the arms of my mother peninsula, watered by her breast, I tasted the bliss of a fairytale landscape. Before the Gulf of St. Lawrence, piercing the waves sometimes raging, my cliffs so many braved the weather. Emerging triumphantly water, but not without scars, creating abstract sculptures reveling view dreamers. And what about those mountains, impassive sentinels, ornamented with a thousand forest jealously guarding the lives of so many species. more... See more text